


Cafuné

by nanashi_tomo



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M, Tails, additional mutations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanashi_tomo/pseuds/nanashi_tomo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So of course, the rest of the afternoon was spent in a rousing game of ‘What Can We Do To Make The Professor’s Tail Puff Up Like A Bottle Brush?’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cafuné

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Meme Prompt: Okay, so: Charles is part cat (or can be part rat/mouse), with ears and a tail. Erik, for some reason, comes up with the conclusion that his tail is an erogenous zone, when it's not.  
> So when Erik is in the mood, and he wants Charles to be, too, he starts stroking/grabbing at the other's tail. Cue Charles being confused as to why Erik is so touchy on his tail all the time.  
> Whether or not it has sex is up to filler. (would be awesome if it did.) <3
> 
> BONUS: If filled with sex: When Charles finds out that the reason Erik's been touching his tail is because he thinks it's an erogenous zone, Charles then proceeds to show Erik his /actual/ erogenous zones, his inner thighs, his neck, behind his ears, maybe? A spot on his hip? <33
> 
> Cafuné: the act of tenderly running one’s fingers through someone’s hair.

He never lets anyone touch his hair.

It’s hard enough to keep them hidden without someone accidentally touching them. It’s why he keeps his hair long; why he doesn’t fashionably style it and lets it flop around most times. Part eccentric scientist, part boyish charm - complete costume.

He uses his telepathy to cover up his mistakes. For those who think that just because he is shorter than they are, they are allowed to touch, to ruffle his hair, to pat his head. And for those who just have to poke things, the ones who cost their parents a fortune in broken objects and hospital bills.

He tries to project the air of reserved gentleman. ‘I’m friendly come talk, just don’t crowd me.’ He supplements this with telepathic suggestion on occasion, though he tries hard to avoid it. That would be the easy way out, and he’s trying to set an example for Raven.

In bed he defiantly does use telepathy. When he goes home with a little blonde, brunette, or the once quickly forgotten redhead, from the pub he makes sure to implant that in their mind. ‘I may be laving your clitoris in ways your promiscuous friends never dreamed possible; but don’t you dare touch my head.’

And once events in the bedroom lead to the necessity of him discarding his pants, the lights go out and everything else takes place under sheets and blankets. Quickly he learned to add ass to the ‘don’t touch’ command. It’s nice that you’re that thoughtful, but no-no.

Because of the three aspects of his physical mutation, that is the hardest to hide. He sits on his hip more than his actual rump, plying it off as engaged, curious, excited. But mostly it’s just to alleviate the pain of sitting on it directly, because it does hurt. He buys loose cut pants, or ones maybe a size too big. He prefers to tuck it down a pant leg as it’s more comfortable than tightly curled around his waist but he can do that too if he knows he’s going to be sitting in on a review, in a lecture, or at a dinner. Somewhere that proper posture is important.

His eyes have the least visible change; it’s only truly obvious in bright light. So he’s taken to keeping sun cheaters with him at all times, the easiest of fixes.

It’s not that he’s ashamed of his mutation; he has no reason to be. And it’s really more for decoration than actual physical function, though they do amplify and focus his telepathy some over long distances. But normal humans wouldn’t understand, and would probably try and surgically remove them. Not that he hasn’t thought about it himself from time to time, but again cheating and setting examples.

So it’s not shame that has him keeping his habits with Eric in little hotel hovels across the country, nor in his own home the first day back. Just absenteeism.

It’s only when he’d walking back inside with Sean, after the other has spectacularly broken a window with only the sound of his voice, that it’s even brought back to his attention with a soft, “Whoa, hey..your eyes..”

Moira has walked in a different direction, off to call her superiors for updates on Shaw, and he was accompanying Sean back inside the house for a light meal when he’d heard the shy comment. It took him an embarrassingly long moment to realize what was being discussed.

“Hm? Oh! Yes, part of my secondary physical mutation.” He said lightly, unafraid in the face of another mutant like himself, and he ran a hand through his hair relaxing the muscles in the back of his head allowing the small pointed ears to lift out of his waves and sit at rest. They were about four inches tall total, furred the same medium brown as his hair, and had a short tuft at the tip that Raven just loved to poke.

Sean looked like he’d love to poke them as well. His thin freckled hand lifted to probably do just that, and Charles’ ears flicked back and forth reflexively to avoid it. Sean froze mid reach, eyes darting to keep up with the quick abrupt movements.

Charles smiled in a most benign way, “I’d really rather you not touch them please.”

Sean’s pale skin made the blush just bleed over his face in bright obvious color, and Charles almost felt bad for him. “It’s fine Sean, just please don’t touch without asking first. Alright?”

“Sorry.” The words were mumbled, but the color in his cheeks was ebbing, “is that all…or?”

“I do have a tail as well-“and Sean leaned around him to look at his behind before he could finish speaking. Charming.

Raven burst out of the house at that point, with Eric hot on her heels. She called out to him in a manner very unbecoming of a young lady and very prophetic to the start of pitch fit. “Charles! He-oh!”

Sean stood abruptly, returning to his previous bright cherry color. Raven just smirked at him as she drew up alongside her brother, whomever hid a bee in her bonnet momentarily forgotten, “I was wondering how long it would take you to remember that you had a pair of fuzzy ears sitting on top of your head.” She said in an amused fashion.

“I believe it was the eyes that gave me away.” he replied, ears twitching as Erik drew closer looking intrigued. Charles knew, from looking in the mirror often enough, that his pupils were now a vertical marquise shape, cat like, rounder in the middle but the shape was noticeably different from a normal humans.

“Are you going to let me rip holes in all your pants now?” Raven said eagerly, keen to ply her temperate sewing skills.  Sewing was the one ‘feminine’ skill that Raven truly enjoyed, and the one Charles felt the most need to curb. He learned young that he needed to curtail her enthusiasm or he’d have buttons in places button ought not be, and lace everywhere else.

“Not _all_ my trousers Raven, it seems such a waste.” She turned, all thought of what had sent her running to him forgotten. And he called after her, “Leave me a few good pair!”

“Is it furry too, like your ears?” Sean mumbled, still leaning around trying to sneak a peak, as if the appendage would burst from the seams of his trousers on command.

“My tail? Yes, brown, the fur is a little longer than my ears but not as long as my hair.”

“Your tail?” Erik spoke, incredulous in that gruff way of his, “You have a tail? How did I miss this?”

He’d always promised Raven that he’d never read her mind, but it got a little fuzzy on the topic of emotional state. Right now his sister was brimming with manic glee, and he feared for his pants. Concerned as he was for his wardrobe, he paid distressingly less attention to Erik’s comment than he should have, “I’m quite sure you were being the gentleman and not looking.” He said before trotted toward the house, tufts of his ears quivering in subtle distress, without waiting for a reply.

~*~

When he’d caught up with Raven she’d had lace in one hand and a pair of his nicer black pants in the other, but Charles had diffused the situation.

He let her have at all of his khakis, save the two best pair, and was pleasantly surprised with the results. He had spent so long conforming to human society that just letting his tail hang free and let his ears rest normally was liberating. Liberating enough to maybe -maybe- let Raven alter a few other pairs of pants. He would still have to tuck his tail and ears away should he leave the mansion, which was why he didn’t let Raven adjust all his trousers, but on the grounds he could release and explore that aspect of himself that he’d hidden all his life.

And poor Sean, he followed Charles around fascinated, so obviously wanting to touch but withholding because he couldn’t muster the courage to ask properly. And Charles was too sadistic to do anything but just let him suffer. But it did have the secondary bonus of wordlessly warning everyone else off of touching without permission.

It did not take long for the students to realize that Professor Xavier was much, much easier to read with these new aspects revealed. The tip of his tail flicked back and forth when he was interested in something, his ears would pin back, disappearing into his hair, when annoyed, and every single hair on his tail would stand on end when he was startled.

So of course, the rest of the afternoon was spent in a rousing game of ‘What Can We Do To Make The Professor’s Tail Puff Up Like A Bottle Brush?’

Despite all Ravens’ experience with this particular past-time, Erik wins. And Charles is somehow conned into awarding the bugger a grand prize consisting of sweat, ejaculate, and the left side of Charles' bed.

Erik seems to be attracted more towards the outward physical aspects of mutation. Charles had seen the way those blue-grey eyes had lingered on Raven’s natural form. He was her oldest friend, brother almost, he noticed these things. So when _his_ bed was the one full of tall, lean, metal bending man Charles was…surprised to say the least.

But adverse; no he was not.

He stretched slowly the next morning. Belly down, arms above his head pressing against the headboard, and tail arching over his back tickling the nape of his neck. He flopped back down with a gusty sigh. Erik’s chuckle low and gravely as he grabbed the brown tail, hand stroking down the length of it, “Good Morning Charles.”

Charles gave a murmured reply, mostly muffled by his pillow. Erik’s hand was warm as he stroked down the length of his tail again, the rough skin and calluses of those hands tugging lightly on the hair, smoothing some and ruffling others.

Charles jerked his tail out of the loose grip, and then swung it around to whack Erik in the arm with a half-gentle thump.

Erik, undeterred, grabbed the base of his tail, where it extended out from his spine, running nails through the hair and along the skin from root to tip. Letting his tail fall limp against his leg, the end tickling his ankle, Charles gave Erik an amused look over his shoulder.

Erik’s hand, ever active, went wandering again, and Charles choked on the squeak when an index finger slid around his sphincter, gently pressing until the muscle relaxed enough to let the digit slide in. Charles was still slightly slick from last night, but not nearly enough for anything more vigorous than the gentle probing it was getting now. Lifting his tail, to keep it out of the way, Charles ground his waking erection against the warm sheets. He keened when Erik removed his finger and resumed stroking his tail.

Erik’s finger was greasy with lube, and he was getting streaks of it up the whole length of Charles’ brown fur. If there was one thing Charles was obsessive about, it was the cleanliness of his tail. He couldn’t explain it, didn’t try to, just bowed to the whims of his inner Id. When Erik uses that same greasy hand to stroke for the third time he can take it no longer and crawls into the other man’s lap to distract him.

Nose to nose Charles mumbled against Erik’s lips, “You’re going to need more lube.” Before kissing away Erik’s grin and waving his own, slightly goopy, tail in the air.

~*~

After that, admittedly wonderful evening and following morning, Charles thought that his encounter with Erik was done. Not that he _wanted it_ to be over mind you. He liked Erik, abrasive humor and all. But Erik did not strike Charles as the candle-light and flowers, romance, and lasting relationships type of man.

Charles could handle that. He could.

So he buried that memory deep, the pleasure, the enjoyment, the companionship and compatibility and savored it. He couldn’t -wouldn’t- forget it, but he wouldn’t trail Erik like some love sick fool. He was a man grown; he’d passed that phase in Primary school with Mr. Schaffer. Erik was a close friend, comrade, and they’d had a quite enjoyable evening together. Now it was the next day and they had goals to achieve.

The world kept spinning no matter how much Charles wished he could curl up with an ‘Erik’ smelling pillow and the memory of that evening just so he could nuzzle and hump the rest of his way through life.

So Charles focused on the now. On trying to encourage Hank to accept himself, made much easier by Charles own obvious additions, on Alex’s aim, on Sean’s learning to fly, on Erik’s control, or on Raven’s stamina. He was blissfully, mind-numbingly, busy the whole day.

His tail was curled over the arm of the chair that evening in the study, Erik across from him playing chess like nothing had happened. It annoyed Charles a mite, but he refused to let the feeling linger.

Halfway through the game Erik rose to refresh his drink, walking by Charles. The long fingered hand stroked over the exposed length of his brown fuzzy tail. Charles was startled, blue eyes whipping around to Erik and his smirk as the taller man continued on to the sideboard.

Brown ears twitching Charles sampled Erik’s emotional state, gleefully straddling that fuzzy line between actually reading his mind and not. The rounded tip of his tail started flicking back and forth as Charles reveled in the electric hum of Erik’s arousal. A repeat of last night might be in the offing, he could work with this.

Blue slit pupils dilated in the wake of Erik’s emotions. Emotions that only burned hotter as he strode back to Charles reclined form. He couldn’t quite define the noise that rattled around low in his throat when Eric leaned over the chair, looming in all of Charles’ personal space, but it might have been a purr.

~*~

Their relationship was mostly undefined, thought it was obvious that Erik’s focus was dividing between finding Shaw and Charles. It was also starting to settle into a comfortable routine. The evenings didn’t always end in sex, but it did always end with each other.

It had been almost a week and Charles was starting to see a pattern forming.

“Do you have a tail fetish Erik?” Charles asked one evening as Erik trailed light kisses down his spine as they both lay shirtless in Charles bed. “Because if that is the case-” he continued as he slowly teased the tip of his tail up the valley between Erik’s pectorals, “it can play a more active role in the proceedings.”

Erik’s weight lifted off his back and Charles’ ears dipped down to his hairline, worried that he’d angered the other man. He half-turn around apologies already on his lips, “I’m sorry Erik, if-“

“I thought it was sensitive?” Erik said, looking more confused than insulted.

“Er, whut?”

“Your tail,” Erik replied settling on his knees, “You never let anyone touch it.” And his hands stroked as much as he was able with it wagging back and forth in Charles hesitant agitation. “And you’re more amenable to sex after I pet it a couple times…”

“When have ever _not_ been amenable to sex with you Erik?” Charles responded with a grin.

Erik did not grin back, “Charles.”

Shifting to sit more comfortably against the headboard Charles resigned himself for a serious conversation and the cessation of sexual encounters for the evening. “It’s no different from any other limb, an arm or leg.” Charles said, letting said appendage curl over his lap. “I asked Sean not to touch just because he was like a two year old in a china shop, fascinated by something new and shiny, begging to break things.”

His eyes looked down into his lap where the tip of his tail twitched in agitation, “I just requested he ask before touching my ears, and he’s never plucked up the courage to do so, And Raven knows that I don’t like people just coming up and touching me like I’m some lap cat to be petted. Between the two, it sort of passed unspoken to the rest and…” he trailed off

Erik just sat there for a moment before his hands drifted down to idly play with the hem of Charles’ trousers, “So it’s not extra sensitive?” he asked, almost sounding disappointed, knuckles grazing his ankle.

Charles tried to look and sound contrite, “Sorry.”

 _Well now I feel stupid_. Erik thought, loud and grumpy enough that Charles couldn’t help but hear, as he slumped over to his half, the left half, of the bed. The mood was obviously broken. Charles crawled over to lay alongside Erik’s firm body, admittedly disappointed but rather sanguine about the fact the Erik hadn’t just left him alone.

Pulling a book off the bedside table Erik flipped it open to the page marked by a strip of paper and settled against the headboard to read. Charles squirmed around until one of the strong tan arms lifted and eased around Charles shoulders. Content to just dose, he settled his head against Erik’s shoulder and closed his eyes enjoying the quiet camaraderie that existed between them even now.

Charles’ eyes fluttered closed as Erik’s hand carded through his hair and up the back of his skull. Erik did it again and the warm flutter of pleasure skittered down Charles spine in cool waves. There was a low pulse in his groin as those long and artful fingers wove patterns through his hair. Whenever Erik rubbed along the line of muscle along the back of his skull, the one that moved his ears, Charles fancied that he could feel the fresh sweet pulse of blood rushing into his cock.

Erik’s pinky stroked down the back of his neck and Charles skin prickled. The tingling feeling that accompanied gooseflesh rippled in waves up and down his body. Sucking in a breath through his teeth as Erik stroked down his neck before carding through his hair again, Charles felt each and every hair in his tail stiffen in their follicles. Oh that felt _divine_.

Erik froze looking down into Charles face. “Don’t stop.” Charles’ voice was a rough hiss, as he leaned up and nipped at the line of Erik’s jaw. The muscles shifted under his lips as Erik smiled.

“Like that?” he said, a low rumbling noise as he pulled his hand up the back of Charles head, the dull bite of nails scraping softly across his scalp. The moan that forced its way out of Charles throat was low, vibrating deep in his chest and his tail shot out from his body in a sharp jerky motion.

His legs felt heavy, moving them was difficult but he did lift one to slide it slowly over Erik’s lap settling his own erect cock next to Erik’s waking one. The book fell off the bed forgotten as both of Erik’s hands burred themselves into Charles’ wavy hair. When fingers rubbed behind his ears Charles arched back into the pressure, bracing himself on Erik’s shoulders and groaning loud and long as he ground his hips down.

Erik pulled him forward, their lips meeting and Charles forced his tongue into Erik’s mouth, battling with it. He’d never really been this forceful before, Erik had always been the one to press and plunder, and Charles didn’t quite know what had taken him over, but to hell if he wasn’t enjoying it. Charles teased Erik’s tongue into his own mouth then, for a good sucking, his hips moving sharp and jerky as he rutted in abandon. Erik forced his head away breathless, “Easy Charles-“

Biting down roughly on a full lip, he bumped his head lightly into Erik’s hissing, “No.”

Goal in mind, motion came easier this time as he leaned back teeth running along the swell of Erik’s pectoral and nipping at an erect nipple before shuffling down his abdomen to rip at his pants with needy fingers.

Somehow knowing that getting between Charles and his prize was a dangerous notion; Erik just kept his hands in Charles’ hair, spreading his fingers wide to cover as much of the man’s skull as he could. He almost shot of the bed as his cock was swallowed in hot, wet suction. There had been no teasing, no shyness, just needy greed that Charles had never expressed before.

Charles knew he made quite the picture as he locked eyes with Erik. He was salivating on Erik’s cock like he hadn’t eaten food in months, and he slowly swallowed as much as he was able as Erik’s eyes glazed over. Eric fisted his hands, and the tension on his hair, on the skin, sent a white hot pulse of pleasure down Charles’ spine and straight to his groin. It was still trapped behind the heavy cloth, tight and painful, and he rocked down unsatisfyingly into air with a whine.

Erik shifted his leg, pressing a long shin up into his thigh. And Charles shifted his legs to settle over it, rubbing quick and sharp jerks that lacked everything in finesse. Gripping hard hipbones Charles moaned his thanks along the pulsing firm length in his mouth.

Erik strained beneath his hands, but controlled himself from thrusting up. Charles watched his abdomen tense and quiver with smug glee.

Charles was hardly breathing, catching air on the occasional pull up and bob, the half dizzy feeling was sending his arousal higher in sharp high spikes.

With a bit of cry Erik finally lost control of his hips, jerking as he came in spurts down the back of Charles’ throat. Caught between coughing and choking, Charles released Erik’s cock and pressed his face into the damp soft skin at the man’s hip. Erik rode out the spasms , continuously running his fingers down Charles’ skull, rubbing behind the fussy tufted ears. Nails scratching that edge of perfect had Charles groaning and whining and jerking against Erik’s leg before cumming with a wail.

The thick, rustic scent of Erik’s musk was a heavy presence on the back of Charles throat when his mind restarted. He was sprawled across the uncomfortable pillow of Erik’s abdomen but didn’t dare move quite yet. One of Erik’s hands was still in his hair, the fingers reflexively twitched when he sighed.

“Why didn’t you tell me about that?” Erik asked, voice still arousal hoarse.

“I didn’t know,” Charles admitted, “I never let any of my former partners touch my head because I worried they would brush against my ears.”

Eric thrummed under him, hands shifting through his damp hair. Arousal sent another sharp jolt down to his cock and he felt the tell tale tickle of his tail puffing up again. Whining he pulling away, rolling off the bed and heading to the bathroom with Erik’s sinister chuckle chasing him.

~*~

The next morning Charles was distracted with a rebellious tea kettle, which was how Erik snuck up behind him and slowly drug a finger up the back of his neck, into his hair, and finding the sensitive muscles on the back of his skull with disturbing accuracy.

Charles eye’s dilated, tail looking like it had swollen to twice its normal size and his whole body shivered. Whirling around, seconds away from giving Erik a loud piece of his mind Charles was cut off by Alex’s bored tone, “Tease your boyfriend later, I need him to help me with target practice this morning.”

The blond teen exited the kitchen laden with disinterest and a muffin.

Erik grinned, showing his plethora of teeth and reached around Charles for a cup before turning and heading for the table. Charles stood frozen, blinking into dead space, mind circling around one word and he mumbled it aloud with baffled confusion, “Boyfriend?”

Erik glanced up from where he had seated himself at the table, looking the quintessential 50’s husband with a cup of coffee in one hand and the newspaper open in the other. “Yes Charles,” he said before turning back to the sport section.

“Oh.”


End file.
